


you don't know what hell you put me through

by Lumalalu



Series: and time passes through us [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, OH i use slightly violent/gory imagery but there's no actual instances of either, PIV, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Time Skip, Semi-Public Sex, Trans Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, uhm. theres something else i know it, unless you count wallowing in A Mood any sort of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26191981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumalalu/pseuds/Lumalalu
Summary: It is afternoon when Felix meets Dimitri, and watches the light set him ablaze.-it's just war phase dimilix fucking in the classroom. cringe!
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Series: and time passes through us [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2107077
Comments: 26
Kudos: 106





	you don't know what hell you put me through

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be stress relief <3 i wrote it all in one sitting <3
> 
> title lifted from To Be Alone. sorry for the hozier.
> 
> i try to avoid referring directly to anyones junk at all, bc i am a weenie, but when i do i use clit n hole for dimi. oh also theres some Booby Touching
> 
> anyways. sorry if this is utterly incomprehensible. im going to bed.

It's late, the soft transition between afternoon and evening, dusk painting the blue banners with orange and purple and black. The sun's last dying breaths shine on the varnished desks, softening their sharp edges. It is late, and the air feels fuzzy and strange.  
  
Felix kisses Dimitri first. He doesn't think, because if he does he'll stop, and his body is aching and lonely and Dimitri is there, just within reach, to settle into Felix's hold, if he'll have Felix at all. Felix doesn't think, because he'll worry that Dimitri will stay, thinking he cannot push Felix away even if he doesn't want this. Felix doesn't think because he'll worry that this will change everything, again, for the umpteenth time, another upheaval that they're not ready for. Felix doesn't think because -  
  
Dimitri tilts his head and kisses Felix back, all the breath escaping him in a soft wondering sound. Because Dimitri's hands hover uncertainly around Felix's hips, fingertips brushing his belt. Because when Felix smoothes out his grip on Dimitri's collar, flat over his chest, he can feel the heat and the pulse of blood that belongs to something living.  
  
And it hurts.  
  
"Felix," he whispers, sounding the way he did with an arrow sunk into his thigh, limping to Byleth to ask for a status report on the battlefield. "Felix," he whines, sounding the way he did after their maiden battle, shaking with adrenaline and fear and despair. "Felix," he gasps, sounding like how Felix feels, open and wounded.  
  
Dimitri is shaking now, his fingers curling loose and tight in Felix's overshirt, and he is staring and staring with his haunted eye. If Felix thought touching Dimitri would heal him, soothe the hurts in his body, he was wrong. It makes it worse, to see him so fully, in the last light of the day. Stained and golden and living still, breathing Felix's air.  
  
Felix kisses him, crowds him, moves into his ribcage. Touches him, restless and trembling and _wanting_ , with hands that kill and hunt and cut hair off in grief. They move, together, backwards until they hit something, Dimitri making a surprised noise into Felix's mouth. Felix keeps pushing, running restless palms down Dimitri's bones, fabric bunching and wrinkling until Felix can claw through his skin.  
  
"Felix," Dimitri cries, face wet.  
  
"Dimitri," Felix answers, kissing tear tracks.  
  
"Can I touch you," He begs, and he's made a home in Felix's heart, too, a space between ribs that he slips through. Felix growls, not quite displeased, hands dropping to broad thighs, making Dimitri's space, body, his own. "Can I touch you, please," Dimitri begs, gripping nothing at all.  
  
If he wants something, he should just take it.  
  
The next kiss is a bite to a vulnerable throat, and Dimitri whimpers right against Felix's ear, desperate and painful. It curls around Felix's chest, his waist, in the form of large hands holding him so, so gently. Felix pushes, again, until Dimitri is sitting on the desk and his living heat is all around Felix.  
  
Felix keeps his teeth stuck in Dimitri's throat, digging in hard and wringing more of those small noises out of him. Soothes the grooves of his canines with the flat of his tongue, feels Dimitri's shaking breath, and Felix will never let him go, not ever. Will eat him up and keep him, tame and collared, or wild in the Faerghan tundra. Goddess, Felix swears this once; he doesn't believe but he doesn't know who else to swear to. Dimitri will be kept, this time.  
  
Dimitri confesses something Felix pretends not to hear. With his thighs - Saints, they're so fucking _big_ \- squeezed tight around Felix, he can't move very much, but that's fine. He doesn't want to leave Dimitri, the place where he exists, only wants to ease the growing pressure in his breeches. Rocks against where Dimitri has opened, has allowed Felix to be.  
  
"Ah," He sighs, rocking, too, meeting Felix halfway.  
  
It's good, how solid he is, how strong, but what's better is he is here. He is here, Felix groans into his veins, kisses more bites down his shoulder, the point of his collarbone, pulling open Dimitri's shirt and snarling frustration at the binding underneath and in his way. Dimitri's breathing sounds like laughter. Felix would be angry if he didn't feel so -  
  
If he wasn't -  
  
Is happiness supposed to hurt, Felix wonders, feeling underneath Dimitri's shirt and tugging on the binding, questioning.  
  
"Yes, yes," He whispers, still _begging_ , like he should be on his knees, like he's used to it. It's too much and too little, leaves Felix feeling hollow and strange and faintly miserable. Makes his mouth dry and throat thick and sticky. His fingers are clumsy when they seek out the clasps on the side, clumsy when they attempt to undo. He understands how things break and rip during sex, now, because he wants to tear Dimitri apart.  
  
He thinks for a moment, _maybe I should take his shirt off_ , remembers where they are, feels the blood in his body thrum with anxiety. But then he gets a handful of Dimitri's chest, realizes that he hasn't seen Dimitri without his binding, ever, and his head goes blessedly empty.  
  
_He's so fucking soft_. "You're so fucking soft." He doesn't mean to say, and Dimitri tosses his head back and laughs, clearly, little hitches and giggles. Baring his throat, which is bruised because of Felix.  
  
It's supposed to hurt, he decides, because Felix can't fathom this not being happiness.  
  
The laces of Dimitri's shirt are loose because of Felix, his skin shining with spit because of Felix, his face flushed and hurt and happy because of Felix. Felix can _see him_ , Dimitri, bitten and alive and vital. He is soft where Felix is touching him, and it's wonderful and incredible that any part of him is still soft, through war and starvation and illness. Big, too, because of course he is, everything about Dimitri is big.  
  
His laughter cuts off into gasps when Felix pinches a nipple, a little bit of retribution, not mean enough for all Dimitri's put him through. Felix doesn't want to be mean to Dimitri, not right now, not ever, not unless Dimitri asks and even then.  
  
"Is that okay," He lets go, just in case it's not.  
  
" _Don't stop_ ," Dimitri demands, "please." Asks.  
  
Well, okay, then.  
  
Dimitri nuzzles at Felix's temple, kissing his hair, tugging down his overshirt and squeezing at his arms. It makes an absurd burst of pride warm Felix's chest, which is embarrassing as hell. Dimitri whispers a second confession that Felix ignores, shaky and nervous. Felix kisses his cheek instead, as much of a compromise as he can manage. Makes the journey down his body, over the swell of his breast, and Felix really is losing his mind over this, Sylvain's voice unbidden in his brain: "Are you an ass man or a tits man - ouch, Felix!"  
  
_Fuck off_ , he thinks, rumbling when his lips close around the nipple he pinched. Dimitri's hips buck against his, the rumble turns into a groan, and Felix thinks also, _I could die right now_ but thinks, also, _What a waste that would be_.  
  
They're pressed tight together, and Felix's arms are trapped besides, between Dimitri's ever unyielding grip and the way his shirt catches around his elbows. Felix wants to touch him, wants to feel him, desperately. He might die if he doesn't, so even though Felix really doesn't want to he backs away to get rid of that stupid fucking shirt.  
  
Oh. It should be silly, the way Dimitri looks in the half-darkness, shirt fallen down his shoulders and dazed. Flustered, sitting on a schoolboy's ancient desk. He doesn't look silly at all, Felix's cock insists, twitching. Dimitri could start belting Annette's ditties, could balance a pie tin on his nose, could crack some stupid awful joke _right now_ and Felix would still be unable to see him as anything but beautiful, some vengeful angel.  
  
Felix changes his oath, swears to Dimitri instead. Sorry, Sothis.  
  
The part of Felix that hunted down boar for five years flexes in his hands, baying in his rushing blood. His shirt lands crumpled on the ground. He steps forward, and Dimitri reaches out for him first. They breathe together, as if with relief, as if those few seconds apart were too much. Maybe they were, for the near decade stretched between them, pulling them together like magnets.  
  
Dimitri grabs him by his belt, pulling him back into Dimitri's space. He whines without meaning to, and it's worth it for the way Dimitri grins at him, like it's easy, like happiness ever came easy to them. Dimitri is much more deft with Felix's buckle than Felix was with his binding, thank the _Goddess_ , or whoever. Felix is dying, he's certain, just for the feeling of living with Dimitri. Of having him here, real and present, heavy with newfound health, though the shadows still stick in his bone structure.  
  
This was why Felix had kissed him, in the first place. Because it was the easiest thing he'd ever done. Because he didn’t know if he’d ever get to.  
  
"Dimitri," He cries, when Dimitri opens his pants and takes him in hand.  
  
"Felix," He answers, when Felix palms him through his clothes.  
  
It's a bit more work to get Dimitri's pants off, because now he won't cooperate, focused on working Felix over in his stupid big hands. Twisting clumsy over the head, thumbing gently at the slit, calloused on the length of him. Awful. This is the worst. Felix is going to die with his dick out before he even gets to touch Dimitri.  
  
Well. Let it never be said that Felix shirked his training. Dimitri is stronger, sure, and bigger, but that doesn't make Felix _weak_. He grabs at the waistline, pulling and shoving until he gets his pants down to the tops of Dimitri’s thighs, nearly under his ass, and then, squeezing a little tighter than he needs to - Dimitri squishes a bit, to Felix's absolute delight, and it is so much better than the skeleton he was before - Felix grabs, and lifts.  
  
Dimitri _squeaks_ , startled, hands flying to Felix's shoulders to keep balance, which is deeply satisfying. His goal isn't to show off, though, just to wriggle Dimitri's pants and smalls down far enough that they can be pulled off when he's seated again. It only takes a few seconds. Dimitri blinks at him, pupil huge, face bright red. Felix is surprised by how hard it is to maintain composure.  
  
How long has it been since it was so easy to be happy? Felix's chest aches, and he pets over Dimitri's skin, the soft prickle of hair. He wonders if the desk is cold, or warmed by Dimitri's body.  
  
Dimitri breathes out his confession, a third time, looking at Felix like he matters, like he's all that matters. Like war never happened to them and they're both innocent, good. There's nothing that will soothe this pain, nothing at all. Felix would be bereft without it, so that suits him just fine.  
  
They're pulled together, soft, easy, so easy. He wants it to always be this easy, wants to hope for it. Wants to live for it. Wants, so much it bleeds from him and onto Dimitri.  
  
The angle is awkward and makes his wrist ache, but Felix doesn't care. He can't care, not when Dimitri hums, pleased, opens his legs further. He can't even be bothered to miss the pressure around his hips, swiping his fingers through Dimitri's soaked heat. Here is somewhere else he is soft.  
  
"Little higher." He mumbles, eye falling shut, brow drawing down. Felix stares. "Ah, right there," he rolls up against Felix's fingers where they draw wet across his swollen clit. He looks so relaxed. Open, with purpling bites on his body, eye closed and trusting, perhaps. Felix is unsure if he deserves that trust. It would be so simple to break it.  
  
Simple as tearing out his own heart.  
  
"Dimitri." He savors the way it sounds on his tongue, in his mouth, behind his teeth. The way he can say it, whenever he wants. " _Dima_."  
  
"Felix." And that Dimitri will always answer. He reaches out for Felix again, leaning forward to kiss him. His mouth, his chin, his jaw. To the soft skin by his ears. Breathing him in, deep. Felix doesn't bother trying to resist fucking Dimitri's fist when it wraps back around him. Lets Dimitri guide Felix's hand back down to his hole.  
  
He should always take what he wants. Felix will always give it to him.  
  
"Felix, I want -” He gasps, hips jumping, when Felix twists his fingers. He memorizes the spot. "Please, I...." Dimitri moans loud when Felix runs his thumb over his clit again. Tightens his hand for a rough stroke in retaliation, smearing pre all the way down. Felix stutters a gasp.  
  
"What, what do you want?"  
  
"M..." He starts, tilting his face away like he's embarrassed. Felix reaches for his free hand, curled loose on his thigh, strokes his scarred knuckles. "More."  
  
The hot flash leaves Felix dizzy when it jolts through him, razing him like an unforeseen heat wave to the fields.  
  
"Please." Dimitri adds like an afterthought. Felix feels a little hysteric. _Why is he like this how is he like this _.__  
  
"What does that mean," he says instead of that, gently pushing another finger inside. Dimitri huffs, and Felix genuinely thinks he'd do anything for Dimitri, would fell the sun and the moon and the stars for him. It pisses him off, but he's too busy being enamored with Dimitri to care.  
  
He knows what Dimitri means, anyways. Felix just wants to see if he'll say it. Felix just wants to hear it.  
  
"I - uhm. I want your... cock. P-please." He mumbles towards the window. Tangles their fingers together and squeezes too gently.  
  
Ugh, Felix was totally unprepared for how that would get to him. _Why_ is he like this. It has to be on purpose, Dimitri is being evil. It has to be, no one is like this in real life. The beginnings of moonlight paint his profile in silver and soft orange. He has to feel the way Felix jerks in his still hand, has to have known that it would.  
  
This is stupid. "Okay," is what he says, like an idiot. It certainly isn't the smartest decision he's ever made, in their old classroom with the newborn moon and deathbed sun hanging in the windows, up against an old desk. Felix bites a kiss against Dimitri's mouth again, pulling his fingers out to replace Dimitri's hand on his cock, steadying. Felix doesn't drink that contraceptive tea of Mercedes’, and he'd bet Dimitri hasn't been, either. But Dimitri had asked, and Felix would give him anything. So, he guides himself in.  
  
Fuck, _fuck_ , he's _tight_ and warm as the furnace they crowded around during winter as children, and Felix is pressed right up against Dimitri, _inside_ Dimitri, squeezing their hands together, it's too much too soon. Felix can't get enough air in his lungs, can only drop his head to Dimitri's chest, try to adjust.  
  
"Don't stop." Dimitri orders when he pauses, hooking a leg around Felix in some pseudo hug, pushing him forward just a bit more. Sure, okay. Felix is reasonably sure he won't come immediately. Even if it is Dimitri, vice tight around him, a bear trap bleeding him out, a hunter caught.  
  
He still wants to go slow, though. Take his time to have this, Felix and Dimitri. Wants to pretend that the war will never touch them again, and they have time to be undesperate. Felix can feel Dimitri's heart fluttery beneath his teeth. The dampness of exertion, his breathing on Felix's scalp, disturbing his hair. Dimitri's hand soft on the back of his neck, clawing gently into Felix's bones.  
  
The fourth confession sounds wet, an open wound, a grief stricken child that became an unsteady man. Felix has little patience for himself, which is a shame. He really did want to go slowly and kindly.  
  
The next snap of his hips is too rough, but it's good, to bury himself in a graveyard made of their memories, to feel Dimitri deep and wet and warm. The way his wavering cry sounds deep in his chest, against Felix's open, biting mouth. It's hard to change angles, because Dimitri is leaning against nothing except Felix, who he curls around and holds tight. But Felix manages anyway, holding the leg wrapped around his back with one hand and not letting go of Dimitri's with the other. Remembers the spots that made Dimitri tremble and shake, aims to make it good for him, too.  
  
Between this reckless pace, the amount of time Felix has gone without touch, and Dimitri himself, he makes it last as long as he can. Felix is stubborn, but horribly starved. "I'm - close," he admits into a bruise, licks like an apology.  
  
"Good." Dimitri says firm and shaky, cradling the back of Felix's head, and that is all he needs to spill over. He rides it out, almost without control over his body, letting go of Dimitri's leg to work a hand between them, to rub quick and punishing circles around his clit, makes Dimitri spasm with shock and gasp a little "ah, ah," in Felix's ear.  
  
Felix can't pull out in time, so when Dimitri comes he goes tight around Felix's softening length, body pushing and pulling at his oversensitivity. It makes him hiss, fingers twitching hard between Dimitri’s. Dimitri bends to kiss his neck through his high collar. They stay close.  
  
"I'll return the favor, next time." He mumbles sleepily, nosing at Felix's shoulder. He's reminded of a cat, the big lazy tom with the crooked tail.  
  
It's quiet. Comfortable, even though Dimitri's skin is probably stuck to the varnish and Felix's ass is out, since his pants are falling. Comfortable because Dimitri makes it. Because he's all Felix wants.  
  
Dimitri whispers a nervous fifth confession, soft against the shell of his ear, and Felix says: "I love you, too."


End file.
